San Andreas Stories
by Anfernee Williamson
Summary: Set part way through the San Andreas game, this slash series follows Carl Johnson as discovers horrible truths about old friends, and realises that perhaps there is only one person left that he can trust his close friend Cesar Vialpando.
1. King in Exile

WARNING: The following chapter of this fanfiction contains explicit, adult material. The overall story series is intended to be M/M slash of the Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas game.

KING IN EXILE

"Yo ese, where are you?"

Carl was still trying to work out the answer to that question, fifteen minutes after he had been dumped here. All he knew was that it was raining, he was wet, and a little further down the road was a large truck stop. He was still making his way down the freeway towards it as he spoke on his cellphone.

"I don't know!" Carl replied, trying to the keep the edge of panic out of his tone. "Everything's fucked up, Ceese. My brothers been shot. We got ambushed by Ballaz, then the cops rolled up and arrested everyone. Tenpenny dropped me in the middle of fuck knows where. He said my brother Sweet's in prison. He said he in deep shit if I don't do what he tells me."

"You got stay calm, ese. First things first, we got to work out where you are and get you somewhere safe. You can't go back to Los Santos, homes."

"You telling me," Carl replied, then asked, his tone hard, "Kendls safe, right?"

"Yeah, homes. Don't need to worry about your sister. I got her with me. You gotta tell me where you are, homes. Deseo ayudarle."

Carl felt his sneakers squishing with each step, as the rain continued to pelt down on him. Even though he was a little off the freeway, keeping his distance from it, the cars still passed like bullets, tires hissing off the wet asphalt. He broke into a light jog as he got closer to the truck stop. It was well populated, and as afternoon began to fade into evening, truckers and other travelers were coming and going from the diner that made up part of the aged complex.

"You see any signs or anything, ese," Cesar's voice was tinny on the other end of the line. "I can hear cars."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on a freeway, near a truck stop. Ah, wait up. There's a sign up in here," Carl said, staring up at it as he approached. He held the phone close to his ear. "Whetstone. Where the fuck is Whetstone?"

"I know that area, it's outside Los Santos. Can you see water?"

Despite the heavy rain and mists that had fallen on the area, Carl could make out enough of what looked like Los Santos way back in the distance. Beyond the freeway though rolled what seemed like endless sea.

"Yeah I'm on the coast."

"I know where you are, ese. You on a truck stop between Los Santos and Angel Pines. I'm going to take Kendl somewhere safe, then I'm going to come get you, homes."

"You better make sure my sisters safe. If Tenpenny or any Grove Street get her - "

"Don't stress it, homes. She mean as much to me as she does to you. I'm well out of Los Santos anyway. Just stay put, I'll take you up to a place I got in Angel Pines. You can hide out till we can work out what to do next."

"Aiight," Carl replied quietly. He was still stressing over his sister, among a million other things, but the plan was as good as any. Cesar continued to convince him with his confident tone.

"Chill, dude. Best thing you can do right now is lay low for a bit. Things are too hot in Los Santos. We'll get you some place Tenpenny or Grove Street can't find you."

Carl could believe there was somewhere his old crew couldn't find him, but he wasn't so sure he could lose Tenpenny that easily. The crooked cop had found him so far whenever he had wanted to. He had probably dumped him out here for a reason and could probably find him out here too. Carl stalked up to the side of the truck stop complex and stared along the chainlink fence line.

"I owe you. Ceese."

"It's ok, homes. I be there as soon as I can."

Carl hung up, shoving the cellphone away in the pocket of his long black shorts. They were about as sodden as the black tank top he was wearing, and the state of his shoes only added further misery to his situation. First thing he had to do was get the fuck out of this weather, but he felt a sudden crush of paranoia as he looked at the bright lights of the diner. Carl pulled himself up over the fence and dropped down the other side, heading instead for some cover near the back of the building.

Things couldn't get more fucked up than this. The crew that he had helped rebuild since getting out of jail had turned on him. But not just him, his brother Sweet too! And now Sweet was shot and in jail, and Rider and Smoke were running with Ballaz. Between them they had destroyed everything he'd repaired in the last few months. The pain of betrayal bit deeper than anything else of the situation.

Carl had always been a man of action. It was how he had got this far in life. But sitting in the dark cover of the truck stop, in the middle of fuck-knows-where, Carl couldn't help but brood. It wasn't like him, but not since his mother had been shot had things seemed this messed up. For a moment, he considered the fact that maybe even Cesar could turn on him ...

'Nah, fuck that', Carl thought, trying to clear his mind. 'He's my boy. I can't think like that about him.'

Carl knew that thoughts like that would only mess him up worse. He squatted down and waited, keeping an eye on the traffic that pulled in and out of the stop from his vantage point. It would be too easy to jack a car right now, and just drive to who knows where. But he had to trust Cesar's plan. It was about all he had left.

Carl did his best to keep his mind at the task at hand, despite the fact he was starting to feel the cold. He wasn't dressed for this weather. He could even feel the rain trickling down into the small of his back. It hadn't been raining when he had rushed to save his brother from the Ballaz ambush. But after being grabbed by Tenpenny, cuffed and blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of no where, the skies had opened up.

His tank top was soaked, hugging his thickly muscled upper body. His Chonglers, despite their length, only accentuated the power in his calves, as much as his tank top did of his arms, by what it didn't cover. Since Carl had got back to Los Santos, he had packed on pound after pound of solid muscle. He was dressed low key, but enough to impress the women. His heavy muscle got plenty of remarks on the streets, and plenty of attention behind closed doors.

Carl lurked for the time, as the rain continued to pound the old truck stop. If anyone had spotted him there alone in the shadows, he would have seemed instantly suspicious. Huge, young, black man, street bred and up to no good. Any number of the cars parked out in the lot would have been a good target for theft.

Carl steeled himself against the cold, noticing the sea breezes filling his senses. Keeping close to the side of the building, he waited his time alone. Nothing else mattered now. Not the fact his brothers was in prison, or the fact his crew had betrayed him. Not even his sisters' safety. All that mattered was waiting for Cesar to come pick him up. Always focused on the task at hand.

The mindless chatter of travelers and hick truckers was starting to grind on Carl's nerves by the time a familiar red lowrider rolled off the freeway. Carl stood up and headed out into the lot as Cesar came to a stop amongst the parked cars.

'Farewell to this fucking place', Carl thought, feeling the sting of the cold rain again. He was in Cesar's car a few moments later, and the warmth there was a simple luxury he never knew he had missed. Cesar started back out onto the freeway almost the moment Carl was in.

"Ay, homes, you drenched."

"Fucking straight, Ceese," Carl muttered in return. "I get my hands on Tenpenny, I'ma kill that mah'fucker." It was an idle threat, but it was easy to blame the cop. Everything had gone downhill since he had met him.

"Chill, ese. You got to think about lying low for now."

"I know, I know."

"Just chill, let me drive. I'll get you out to my place in Angel Pines and everything'll be cool," the Hispanic replied, arm rested lightly atop the steering wheel, eyes dead ahead. "You just need time out to work things out."

Cesar certainly didn't have Carl's size, but he was as tall as him. Where Carl was bereft of tattoos, Cesar's fair skin was marked dark by various images and words of the street. His muscular forearms and biceps, up to his tight chest, snug within the embrace of his white wifebeater, and his neck, all inked with tattoos. His hair was buzzed short, and his stache was kept with the same careful attentions. Cesar's tan chinos sagged XL, the same way Carl liked his own clothes. Its long legs caught on black skate shoes.

The freeway outside was a blur to Carl. He tried to chill and let his friend take care of things, letting his guard down for just a moment. The heat wasn't warming him or drying his clothes as quickly as he had hoped. Carl ran a hand over his own buzz cut hairstyle, still feeling the moisture. He wanted to sleep, but he wouldn't afford himself that much.

Time passed silent and unhindered. As coastline faded to forest in the quickly darkening night, Carl began to take an interest in things again. The great, dark shadow of a mountain blackened the night sky above as he looked out the window. He'd never been outside Los Santos. Other than moving to Liberty City, Grove Street had been his life. This was all new.

Before long they were pulling into what seemed like somewhere nested in the middle of nowhere. Compared to Los Santos, it barely passed for civilization. It looked like a collection of streets and buildings that nature was eager to claim back. Short fences held back overgrowing grass on low houses. What few street lights they passed did little to banish a night that seemed all the more dark for being this far out of the city. And still that huge shadow of the mountain hung over all.

"Where the fuck is this?" Carl asked, letting his seat upright again.

"Angel Pines, ese. About the furthest place you can get from anywhere."

"You telling me ..." Carl watched the buildings pass by. It had only been a short minute or two but already they seemed to be pulling back onto the outskirts.

"Well it's your home for the next lil while, dude."

"Fuck that," murmured Carl. This place was too quiet for him.

"Hey, don't stress it, homes. Place got an Ammunation. Can't be half bad!"

Carl managed a bit of a smile at that. It seemed wrong that a hick place like this, in the middle of nowhere could have a gun store. What did that say about the state of things? This didn't seem like gang infested Los Santos. As they pulled into what seemed like a caravan park filled with run down prefabs, Carl started to wonder again what sort of backward place Angel Pines was.

"It's not much, homes, but it's somewhere to hide out for a while. Mi casa es su casa."

"Damn Ceese, I been in some run down places in my time," Carl remarked, staring out at the dark shapes. "But this is some new shit ..."

"Ain't so bad on the inside."

"Best be glad I didn't come up in here during the day ... I'd see how bad you is at investing in property."

Cesar navigated through the narrow gaps of the prefabs, pulling the low slung lowrider up near one of them towards the back. The quiet that came as he turned off the car was startling, especially considering that no sounds of the street came to replace it. Carl got out, noticing first the silence. The smell in the air, that of pine reminded him of air freshener, but this was real pine scent. It was jarring to his senses, familiar, yet entirely new. Carl was grateful at least it wasn't raining any more, even though the cool night air still felt sharp against his skin.

"Probably better we came out here at night, ese," Cesar remarked, as he got out of the car. He rounded it to where Carl stood staring at the broken down prefab, pausing at the trunk to retrieve a worn rucksack. "No one going to know you came here. No ones going to ask questions."

"Don't think I'm not grateful," said Carl, realizing how he was looking at the place, and noticing it in Cesar's expression. "I owe you for this. Big time."

Cesar clapped one of Carl's big shoulders, smiling, "De nada, dude. We in this together, else I wouldn't have called you in on Smoke and Rider. I know what I'm getting myself into, and I know you grateful."

Carl managed a bit of a smile, but the events of the day had long since drained him. He was running on empty. He just nodded in recognition of Cesar's words as the Hispanic headed up to the door of the prefab. Even in the depth of night, Carl could make out the place, and that alone surprised him. Out here it seemed almost like a different sort of dark.

His new home was long and low, little more than a block of barely held together tin sheets. Cesar was mounting what passed as a veranda of sorts, a ramshackle construct of aged wood, unlocking the door. What few windows broke the monotony of the exterior were small, those that Carl could see curtained and dark. He followed hesitantly after Cesar. The outside reminded him of something only a little better than a caravan. As Cesar turned the lights on and closed the door, Carl realized that wasn't too far from the mark inside either.

The interior was small, and built to try and maximize what little space was available. Carl reminded himself that he had seem worse, a lot worse. There was something almost rather snug about the tidy interior, and Cesar had been right about it being better inside.

Antique looking wall lampshades cast a dim light across deep brown, faux wood interiors. One end of the prefab was lined by built in seats, crowned by threadbare, faded green cushions. The tiny TV propped atop one of the storage units reminded Carl of the TVs he had grown up with, barely color and with a reception only just pulled in by a coathanger-turned-aerial. A bar was the only thing that broke the single room between lounge and kitchen, with little thought of dining between. A door at one end was hung with a grimy old blanket. Carl hoped the bedroom and bathroom was beyond. Didn't hicks out in places like this shit outside?

"Like I said, dude, it ain't much, but mi casa es su casa," Cesar remarked, tossing Carl the keys. The big black caught them easily. "It's all yours for as long as you need it."

"As long as it's got a bed and shower, I'm starting not to give a fuck what the place is like."

Cesar dumped the rucksack down on one of the seats, putting a hand on Carl's thick back, "You aughta get out of those wet clothes, ese. There's a shower and a drier though in there passed the bedroom." Cesar nodded towards the blanketed doorframe.

Carl raised an eyebrow as he noticed how Cesar's hand lingered down along his back. He thought it was strange, but the thought passed when the Hispanic walked around him and into the kitchen. He took the chance to drag off his tank top. It peeled off Carl's powerful form, exposing solid muscle. It felt good to be out of it. The place had a strange smell, but it held a curious warmth.

"Sorry the place don't have no food, homes. We should have picked up something for you to eat too."

"All I'm caring about right now is getting a shower and getting some sleep," Carl stood there, bared chested, tank top in hand, staring at Cesar with a look that he hoped conveyed his feelings. He was feeling the fatigue and despite all the help Cesar had given him, he was eager to be alone. "Rest of that shit can wait."

"Fair enough, ese."

Carl stood in silence, staring, watching Cesar watch him. It was a long few moments, the Hispanics eyes casting slow gazes down over his muscular curves. Carl was used to seeing people look at him, and that he dismissed as expected. He wasn't a stranger to being shirtless either. But it seemed to take a little longer than he expected before Cesar finally got the message. He appeared to be spending the time indulging in the views of Carl's husky form.

"I leave you for now then, dude," Cesar remarked quietly. The Hispanic rubbed at the back of his neck a moment and passed Carl by again. Carl took the chance to clap him on the shoulder as he came close.

"Thanks again for all this. I appreciate it."

"De nada, ese." Cesar looked like he remembered something. "Oh yeah, I bought you some clothes and some other things. You ain't my size, ese, all XXL like you are. But I managed to grab some things before I got out of my house. Figured you might need a fresh change."

Carl was surprised, watching Cesar head to the door, "Oh, thanks."

"Like I said, dude, don't mention it." Cesar's expression turned more serious. "Don't open the door for anyone. Just lay low for a while. You need me, call me. In the meanwhile, just chill. Don't worry about nothing. Kendl is safe too. You know I got your back."

"I know," replied Carl, not doubting a word the Hispanic said, despite his previous bout of paranoia. "No one else got my back like you have right now."

Carl waited, and yet Cesar still lingered near the open door a while longer. Eventually he added with an air of finality, "I'm going to take a shower. I'll call you."

"Hasta luego, ese."

Carl closed the door after Cesar had finally left, wondering why it had taken so long. Maybe if it was any other time, he would have wanted to hang out with Cesar, but right now all he wanted was a shower and a bed, and to be left alone. He locked the door, three ways and headed towards the rest of the prefab, ignoring the rucksack.

Pushing through the heavy blanket, Carl found himself in a tiny extension occupied mostly by a double bed. He cussed quietly to himself as he groped for the light switch, and after finding none, skirted about the bed to the darker door beyond. A small window, its curtain drawn back slightly, cast a pale light over another TV, but little else.

The bathroom beyond was smaller still, yet thankfully the light switch was easier to find. It seemed little more than a shower, toilet, washing machine and drier shoved into as little space as possible. Carl took it in for a moment, before opening up the drier and tossing his tank top inside.

Stripping out of what was left of his wet clothing was an ecstasy. Chonglers, then boxers ended up in with the tank top in the drier, leaving his big body naked. The mere act of having a shower was starting to seem like heaven right now. Carl turned it on, avoiding the initially cold water and waiting for it to run through into hot. Soon steam was filling the tiny interior, and sooner still, Carl slipped in under the water.

Carl felt something akin to true pleasure as he felt the warm shower. He let out a long moan, feeling as the water ran over his thick muscles, stripping away the ache and fatigue of the day. It bounced off his big shoulders, running the thick expanse and many deep grooves of his back. He had expected a dribble, but the shower came at a torrent, fingers of warm water working at his dark, muscular form.

There was soap in a hanging dish, set in the corner of the shower box. Carl wondered when it was that Cesar had last come out here, given the place seemed decently stocked. He worked up thick suds over his body, white contrasting over skin like deep cocoa. He worked the rich lather though what little hair crowned his head, feeling as if he was washing back the troubles that had plagued him the whole day.

The air was heavy with heat, and steam. Carl began to feel as if nothing existed outside this shitty little prefab. Surely nothing could feel better than this simple shower. As he placed his hands against the wall of the shower box and let the soap suds slide down over his powerful form, Carl felt the warmth of the water take him. Compared to the hard ache of the day, this was like a lover's slow embrace.

Carl stared down, through the moist mists, watching as the soap rinsed away from him, spiraling down the drain at his feet. Below, beyond steely abdominals, the foggy bathroom air was darkened by the dense blackness of his pubes. The heft of his limp dick, and dark nuts added further depth. Carl ran a hand down over himself, washing some of the errant soap down about his genitals. There was a rich pleasure in touching himself there just lightly, washing about his balls and flaccid hose.

'Fuck,' Carl found himself thinking, suddenly reminded. 'How long has it been since I fucked?' There was that girl he was messing with back in Los Santos, but her hard gangbanging edge unnerved even him. He didn't like that in a girl.

He had all night, and Carl found nothing wrong with his own hand. Not that he had relied on it all that much in his life, especially since he had come back to Los Santos, and even less since he had bulked up so large. The idea quickly felt as appealing as this long shower had become. His member thrilled at his touch, reminding him of the absence of attention there. It had been far too long.

But for now there was no Grove Street. No Tenpenny. Maybe Ceese was right about needing to take time out. Maybe even he could get to like this slower pace, even if it was just for a few days. He could get his mind back in order. And plan his next move. Until then, Carl had time alone, with himself.

Savoring the pleasures tingling through his already half hard cock, Carl abandoned it momentarily to pick up the soap again. He scrubbed heavily about his balls, lathering his thick black pubes up into a luxurious cloud of white. His thick cock flopped languidly about as he continued to his powerful thighs. More soap made his dark muscles white, and still Carl felt the embrace of the water.

'Fuck this feels good ...'

Carl excused his deep breathing, which made his big chest rise and fall with something bordering on excitement. Had it really been that long? He felt almost foolish with the sensations. The soap escaped his big hand, thumping hard against the floor of the shower. Carl bent to retrieve it, feeling the water pound off his expansive back. It ran down over his thick ass, the twin globes of his prominent rear. He felt the water stroking down between the deep crevice between, teasing over his asshole.

Carl dumped the soap back in the dish and began to rinse his husky form off. He took a moment to reach back and slip a hand down between the tight mounts of his ass cheeks, rubbing just lightly at himself there. He felt cleaner than he had in a long time. His cock was still chubby in anticipation of his touch as he washed the soap off himself there, his uncut head bouncing against his corded forearm.

Water escaped the shower box as Carl slid open the door. He turned the shower off, before getting out, big muscles still streaming with water. It puddled on the bathroom floor, adding moisture to an already steamed, small chamber. As cold as it had been outside, the bathroom had quickly become like a comforting cocoon. Carl wasn't surprised to find fresh towels, stacked inside a low cupboard right next to the shower. He was surprised at how many where in there, though.

'Fuck Ceese,' Carl thought, as he pulled out the first one. 'Why the hell you need so many damn towels for?'

Carl barely gave it much more thought as he started to mop at his big chest, rubbing down over broad, cut abs. His big member was still heavy, and he knew it wouldn't disappear unless he dealt to it. Already there was the thought in his mind of the pleasure. His body felt it, a light, lingering electricity in the pit of his stomach. The anticipation kept his size on edge.

Carl dried himself only by half, tying the lush white towel about his waist. He considered putting his clothes on to dry, but with the drier this close to the bed, he expected the noise of it would only keep him up. As tired as he had been, the shower had refreshed him no end. Jack off his cock a little, and he knew he'd sleep well past morning. The bathrooms only window, frosted and perhaps the only decently sized one in the prefab, protested even under his heavy hand, as he pushed it open to let out the steam that made the air thick.

Returning to the bedroom, Carl finally spotted the light. A cord swayed from a light hanging from the ceiling. He left it alone, light cutting in from out in the main room, where he had left the heavy blanket slightly ajar on the doorframe. That warmth still hung in the air, and a slight breeze from the bathroom washed the heat of the shower into the bedroom.

Carl wondered if he could pick up any of the free to air porn stations this far out from Los Santos. Sitting on the end of the double bed, he toyed with the small television a moment. He pawed at his big pec slowly, the sudden shower of static on the screen lighting his deep muscles in stark relief. Confusion washed over his features as he clicked through the channels, drawing nothing but static from each. No aerial, no signal.

Carl turned it off, disappointed, plunging the room back into relative darkness again. He sat a moment longer on the end of the bed, before opening up the cupboards underneath. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he discovered the VCR stored away carefully beneath the TV. More cupboards revealed lines of cassettes. Even in the brief line of light from the kitchen, Carl could make out the titles of some of them. He reached back for the light cord, pulling it. The bulb came on with a quiet click, pealing back the darkness on Cesar's secret stash.

"God damn, homeboy," Carl remarked, marveling as he took stock of the number of cases. "Got enough porn here to send a kid blind for life ..."

There were two shelves of tapes, within three cupboards; the main cupboard that kept the VCR, plus one either side of that. By Carl's reckoning, that was a lot of porn. More than he could count quickly, but he guessed at least 50 tapes. Carl smiled to himself as he perused the titles, suggestive, some of them plays and puns, but all of them lewd. Cesar had outdone himself in giving him a place to hide out. He could entertain himself here a day or two at least.

"Didn't think you were this sort of vato, Ceese," mused Carl. He pulled out one of the tapes at random, already starting to paw at his swollen lap. The urge to ride the towel up his big thighs was strong. "Don't mind if I help myself to your collection though ..."

Carl started to pull the cases out, giving each a good once over: "Sperms Of Endearment". "Rimmerama". "Moulin Splooge". "Big Trouble In Little Vagina". He tossed each of the tapes onto the bed beside him as he continued to make his way through just the closest shelf. "Big, Brown, Bomb Boo-Yow Booty, Brazilian Bitches". "Shes Not a Lesbian ... Shes a Vagitarian".

It seemed strange to think that Cesar might have got himself off to this pretty sizable stash, each tape stored away lovingly. What struck Carl more was the fact that it revealed a little of his Hispanic friends sexual tastes. And that in some cases, they were similar to his own, if this stash was accurate. It felt weird, in the same sort of way finding an older brothers stash of nudie magazines might. To have it confirmed that they were both hot blooded males, both with sexual needs.

Carl pondered which of the tapes he wanted to watch for the night. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do right now than kick back in bed and get himself off. Maybe jack himself off to sleep. Sure, there was no aerial or reception on the television, but he had The Cesar Channel: All Porn, All Night. It made him smile.

Spoilt for choice, Carl returned to the cupboard for more selections. He leaned in a little closer, noticing something, now that he had taken so many of the tapes off the shelf. Pulling back a few more cases, he found a few others pushed up against the back of the cupboard. Maybe they just didn't fit. But the cupboards seemed far too organized for that. Carl could only guess they had fallen back behind the others, but even that didn't seem right. He pulled one out, curious.

At first it just appeared to be one of the many tapes: "Black Bisexuals". The cover showed two lithe black girls, naked and suggestively close, lingering near each others lips. But as Carl checked it out a little closer, he felt a strange sensation run though his big body. It was all he could do but stare, especially as he turned the case over and looked at the gathering of naked bodies on back. Not just girls, but guys as well. The guys stood out to Carl's straight eye, they had the look of street hardened thugs, they could have been any of his boys on appearance. But these thugs hung in each others arms. Two of them were kissing.

"Fuck Ceese," Carl murmured, studying the back of the case. He hoped it might reveal something to prove Cesar's innocence. "This some gay shit ..."

Carl was shaking by the time he shoved the case back where he found it. He had pried deep enough and found out something about Cesar he wished he hadn't. Maybe it was a mistake somehow, but he knew there was no way he was ever going to confront Cesar about it. It put those lingering touches Cesar had given him before he left in a different light.

"Oh hell naw," he said, sharply. Carl jammed the rest of the tapes back away, and closed the cupboard. "I'm not even thinking like that ..."

Carl got up from the end of the bed, stalking out into the kitchen. Cesar was with his sister, he reminded himself. That put all thought that Cesar might be that way inclined out of his head. It was the end of the matter, almost as quickly as it had developed. Carl switched off the lights and prepared to go to bed. Maybe he might check out those tapes tomorrow, but right now, all he felt like doing was going to bed. The shock of finding that tape hidden away in the back had scared him off prying deeper into Cesar's things.

Once he had turned off all the lights and tossed his towel near the television, Carl realized how truly silent it was. No gunshots colored the night air, no passing cars. Those had become so second nature to Carl that he didn't realize he missed them until he found himself out here, where it was really quiet. Naked, he slipped in under the sheets of the bed, finding it strangely soft and comforting. Or maybe he was just more tired than he had thought.

The deep darkness of the place, and the silence took some getting used to. That and his persistent half hardon kept Carl awake. It wasn't much longer before his right hand was easing down about his nuts, something else that was second nature to him. After so long, this felt like heaven, just this simple, soft touch. A man like him needed this. Sex was a constant. One that he didn't realize he had neglected so long until he had been forced to slow down.

'Gonna be a long time out here,' Carl reminded himself, his hand gently fondling his heavy nuts. 'Better get used to this shit. Can't be all that bad.'

Just the slow touching of his balls started Carl's cock on it's steady road to hardness. His muscular legs slowly and instinctively started parting. All too soon after he had climbed into bed, Carl pulled the sheets back down. The cool night air was still crisp from the bathroom window, making his exposed nipples harden, touching over hard skin. It did little to cool the heat that was blazing between his thighs.

Carl didn't think about the trouble that he had seen that day, or even the tapes that he had discovered. This was old school, just him and his hand. And when he was alone with himself, like he used to as a kid, nothing else mattered. Soft moans escaped his lips as his spare hand started exploring down now rock hard abdominals. Fingertips drifting almost tenderly down the well cut flesh, as he thought about how much his body had changed since he was a kid, even since he had returned to Los Santos.

Carl's cock seemed to meet him halfway, thick and heavy against his stomach by the time his hand made it that far. Straight forward and action focused in life, Carl was almost the opposite when pleasuring himself. His body might have changed since he had come back home, but his cock hadn't. A great, thick, veined club of a dick, uncut and blunt. Already it was drooling precum onto his abs, as his hand slipped about its heft.

Carl gently teased himself, pulling back ample foreskin on a bloated crown, smelling the rich scent of juices. He could see the moisture that had fallen in light drips on his stomach. As he pulled his skin back, feeling that turgid hardness throbbing within his grasp, precum started to make his palm wet. It was all he could do to stop himself jacking off with more urgency. Carl could feel the pleasure and need swelling up in him.

His mind seemed to drift back to Cesar, as he wondered whether his friend had laid on this bed and done exactly the same thing. Had he fucked his sister on this bed? Carl's big hand started to stroke more firmly as the questions accompanied the pleasure. Cesar never left Kendl's side. The two probably fucked like rabbits. He was starting to discover Cesar and him were alike in ways he had never thought of before.

For a start they were both oversexed.

Carl groaned deep, feeling his dick twitch. He was too close, and his big chest was rising and falling before his eyes. Beyond, his cock continued to ooze a precum that made his hand slick, and his grasp slurped quietly on his big size. Still he let his other hand stroke and toy with his nuts, careful not to be too rough. His hand experienced with himself from years of practice. Nothing was better than this. No one knew better about getting him off than himself.

Was it true that Cesar had thought about guys? Still those thoughts invaded Carl's quiet time alone. His feet slowly pushed back against the mattress, messing the sheets as he fought with his pleasure. His stomach was overwhelmed with the warm glow of his masturbation. His mind kept coming back to those tapes, and to Cesar, idle thought and fantasy. Anything was far game for a homeboy when he had his dick in his hand.

It wasn't like Carl hadn't given it a thought or two in his time. He'd helped out that idiot OG Loc, the wannabe gangsta rapper who had spent time in jail just to help his street cred. He was just the sort that a thug would end up fucking in the ass. And truth was Loc relied on Carl for everything. He wouldn't have been what he was now without Carl's help.

'What about you help out your boy in return,' Carl thought, gasping more tightly. He dropped his nuts to toy with his stony nipples. 'Yeah, that's it boy. Down on your fucking knees ...'

Carl fought with himself as his climax threatened to overwhelm him. He was fighting a losing battle, trying to hold back that which a man couldn't. The fantasies in his mind only made it harder. He thought of a warm mouth on his cock. Loc's mouth. Anyone's mouth. Truth was when he was caught in the throes of climax, his mind gave up reason. The only thing that did his thinking was his dick.

Carl was thinking of Cesar as his cock throbbed and shot a rope of clean white cum up over his chest and abs. He could almost hear it fall against his hard muscles, the second coming with equal power. Thick globs of it began to pool within the deep cuts of his stomach, rolling down the heavy curves of his chest, erupting with a release that made Carl moan powerfully. It cut through the night air cleanly.

'Fuck it,' Carl thought, feeling the surge of his seed through the thick trunk still grasped in his hand. 'Let them hear if they wanna. 'Fucking Grove Street up in here ... represent ...'

Carl felt the cum running cool down the sides of his hot body as his climax faded. He rose quickly, not wanting to get it on the sheets, and the pool of it began to sluice down towards his thick pubes as he did. He grabbed the towel he had discarded and began to staunch the spreading mess. Mopping and rubbing at himself, and then his big member. Another thick bead of cum revealed itself at his piss slit as he pulled his fist up on his cock. Carl moped that away too, knowing it would only wet the sheets if he missed it.

"That was some fucking nice shit," Carl murmured to himself, tossing the towel again. He stunk of cum, but weariness was starting to set in, and this time he wanted to sleep. Finally, his big cock was starting to go the same way.

Heading back to bed, Carl shifted over to the other side, to avoid the moist warmth his body had created during his jacking off. The cool embrace of the unoccupied side of the bed comforted him, his eyelids heavy with sleep now he was cruising in the bliss of his post orgasm. Now he had nutted, everything was forgotten. He was satisfied, at least for now.

Carl's eyes opened sharply as he heard a creak. It sounded like a heavy foot on wood, outside. The sound of a cricket out here could keep him awake, the sound of movement outside was like a gunshot. Carl's heart started to pound again, this time not from sexual excitement. No one was supposed to be out here. No one knew he was here. And of course Tenpenny hadn't left him with a gun.

The footsteps creaked across the veranda outside. The knock on the door broke the silence louder than anything had this far. As Carl shot upright in his bed, he knew some shit was about to go down. 


	2. First Base

WARNING: The following chapter of this fanfiction contains explicit, adult material. The overall story series is intended to be M/M slash of the Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas game.

FIRST BASE

Carl's feet were on the ground even before he had tossed his sheets off him. His mind had quickly switched into survival mode. The knocking on the door was still fresh in his senses as he grabbed the only thing he had at had to dress himself. He wrapped the towel about his middle and knotted it quickly.

'If this is Ballaz coming for my ass,' thought Carl, 'then it's do or die. I ain't running no more.'

Carl pushed aside the blanket that served as the door from the bedroom, and searched quickly for a weapon. He cursed himself for not getting a pistol off Cesar, or even going into the Ammunation that Angel Pine was supposed to have. Here he was, alone in what was meant to be Cesar's safe house, niggas banging on the door, and him with no weapon.

By the time the knocking started again, Carl just grabbed the first thing he could see off the counter. Pale light from outside was all that lit the main room of the prefab. Carl moved surprisingly light for a man his size, but the threadbare carpet afforded little more silence to his footfalls. He prepared to burst from the front door and lay bloody murder on whoever was outside.

"CJ! Open the door, homes! I'm getting wet out here!"

"Ceese?"

Carl scowled in disbelief, tossing the large pot he had grabbed from the stovetop onto the nearest seat. He started unlocking the door, feeling the frustration tensing up his muscles. He had been ready to fight for his life and it was just Cesar at his door? Carl looked a picture of anger by the time he opened the door on the Hispanic.

"You fool!" Carl muttered, almost ready to throttle his close friend. "Your ass could have been dead right now."

Cesar was standing there, sodden by the rain that still fell lightly. The night outside was pitch black, but the tall, muscular form of the Hispanic was unmistakable. Strong shoulders and arms, accentuated by his white wifebeater. Cesar had fallen silent now the door was open, and Carl missed the looks that he was giving him. The cold burst of night air coming through the door was starting to bite, his towel affording little protection from the elements.

"Get your ass in here, Ceese. Standing out on the doorstep ..."

Carl slapped Cesar on the shoulder as he passed, giving a quick glance out into the night to make sure no one else was there. Even if they were, he wouldn't have noticed them. He wasn't used to the darkness out of the city. Somewhere beyond the prefab complex a lone street lamp stuttered against the night. Carl closed the door heavily, and locked it again several ways.

"Ay, thought I told you not to answer the door for anyone, homes."

Carl gave him a hard look, but he could tell that Cesar considered it a poor joke as soon as he had said it. The Hispanic was carrying a heavy bag of Cluckin' Bell. Carl didn't catch more than a hint of the smell of chicken. It was most likely cold.

"What you doing back here, Ceese?" Carl asked, turning on the lights. "I thought you was gone for the night?"

The old wall lights of the prefab cast a slight glow across them. It made the moisture on Cesar's brown skin glisten, as it ran down over his features and hard muscle. Carl could see how damp his clothes were. Cesar had to have been outside for a while to have got that wet. The Hispanic was quiet again, staring at him. And this time Carl noticed it. He could see Cesar's eyes looking him over. The expression on his face was unashamedly admiring. Still, there was something guarded about it.

"Ceese!" Carl wasn't in the mood for much more than sleep. Cesar was once again standing in his way of it.

"Sorry, dude. I bought you some food. I didn't want you to go hungry."

"I don't need no food," Carl bit back. "I just need me some sleep. I'm serious, Ceese. I was all about ready to kill you."

Cesar caught sight of the pot lying on the seat next to the door, "With this, homes? I use that to boil water."

"You fool."

"Ay, I'm sorry, ese, I am. I just figured you could use some food, and I left you up in here with none."

Carl sat down on one of the seats. It's cushions were harder than they looked, not in the least bit comfortable. He muttered in a more subdued tone, "It's cool."

Carl noticed the silence that had fallen between them again, eventually glancing back up at Cesar. The Hispanic was staring at him again, or more accurately, he was staring at the towel he had wrapped about his waist. Carl looked down at it, realizing the thick globs of cum scattered down the front of it. Even on the clean white of the towel, the shear amount of it made it bluntly obvious.

"I guess you was asleep already," Cesar murmured, rather quietly. He put the sack of Cluckin' Bell down on the counter.

"Yeah, something like that." Carl didn't really give a fuck what Cesar saw, he was too tired to care. "How long you been out there anyway? How come I didn't hear your car pulling up?"

"I left it parked over near the Bell. I didn't want anyone knowing we were staying over here, dude."

"We? I thought you was leaving me up in here alone?"

Cesar fell quiet again, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Yeah I was, homes." He seemed uncomfortable, and the words certainly weren't coming as quickly as they always seemed to with Cesar.

"Look, I really am sorry I came back and woke you up, dude," Cesar remarked after a moment. He picked the pot off the seat and put it back on the stove. "It's just that some other shits gone done. Stuff I didn't tell you about."

"Like what?"

Cesar sat down on the seats opposite. "That shit that went down between Grove Street and the Ballaz ..." Carl's heart dropped, and he prepared for more bad news. Cesar was the one who had warned him just soon enough to save his brother, right before the Ballaz had all but wiped out his own crew.

"Well whoever it was that organized that shit turned my crew against me," Cesar said quietly. "I don't have a place to go back to, homes. I can't go back to Los Santos any time soon. I got a few other places I can go ..."

"Damn, Ceese. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Ay, homes. I didn't want you dealing with this shit on top of what you already dealing with."

"I figured we was brothers."

Cesar replied firmly, "Ese. We are. But you got a lot on your mind right now."

"We in the same boat, homie. Both of us can't go back to Los Santos. You should have just stayed here when we rolled up on this place."

"I don't know," remarked Cesar, distant and hesitant. "I just wanted to give you some space, homes. That and ... well ..."

"Damn. Who the fuck organized all this shit?"

"I don't know, homes," Cesar replied, obviously distracted.

"You know my guts tell me it's Tenpenny, but I ain't giving that motherfucker the credit of being able to pull off something that big. Damn ..."

"It don't matter who did it, dude."

"Naw, fuck that, it does, Ceese," Carl replied, staring back.

"Ay, ese. No, I mean it doesn't matter who did it right now. If there's one thing we got it's time. We can work that shit out in the morning, homes. I mean ... look at you ..." Carl raised an eyebrow as Cesar gestured towards him, and the pause was again rather long, "You should be getting some sleep. We both should. It's been a fucked up day."

"Sure damn right there."

Cesar got up from the seat, rubbing at the back of his neck again. Carl sensed there was something different about Cesar. When the two of them had driven out here, he had seemed so collected, with everything planned. Now the Hispanic seemed the total opposite.

Carl got up and looked over at the sack of Cluckin' Bell. He had noticed the yellow shine of the fast food joints lights just before they pulled in, about a block away. It wouldn't have been that long a walk for Cesar. Certainly not long enough for the food to have gone cold.

"I'll just get some blankets, homes. I'll sleep on the couch."

Carl put a hand on Cesar's shoulder and could feel how damp his wifebeater still was, despite the warmth of the prefab, "Naw, perfectly good king size up in that bedroom, homie. As long you keep to your side, it's all good."

Carl was a little surprised by Cesar's nervous look. It was still there as the Hispanic put a hand on his big shoulder. Carl felt the way his hand lingered there, rubbing at the hard muscle. Cesar's fingers worked lightly along the still tense, tight muscle of his shoulder, towards his neck, before drifting away. Carl could see conflict in his friend's eyes.

"Now I know things as fucked up for you as they are for me," Carl said, still looking his Cesar in the eyes. He was breathing deep in a way that made his chest and shoulders shift heavily. "I'm sorry you lost your crew, I know how bad that shit hurts."

Cesar pulled back a bit, just nodding lightly in reply. His tone was a lot more firm and gathered when he spoke, "Yeah, homes. Yeah."

Carl slapped him on the shoulder a few times before letting him go. "If you want to go have a shower, the water won't keep me awake."

"Cool, homes."

Carl lingered a moment, wondering about the sudden change that had come over Cesar. He dismissed it as the bad news the Hispanic had given him. Carl felt an anger in him. It was bad enough what happened to him today, but the fact that it had happened to Cesar as well made Carl mad.

"You go on, homes. I just need to get a drink. I'll make sure I don't wake you."

"Aiight. Night Ceese."

Carl headed back into the bedroom, wondering about his clothes now that he had to worry about Cesar being in bed with him. He went through to the bathroom quickly, and checked his boxers. They were a little damp, but he figured he would risk wearing them so that he wasn't naked under the sheets with Cesar.

He pulled them on and tossed the cum damp towel into the washing machine. When he came back out, Cesar was already making his way around the bed. Carl let him squeeze passed to get to the bathroom. He could felt the hardness of Cesar's body against him, the wetness of his clothes. A few moments later and he heard the sound of the shower running.

Carl's head was still wild with what Cesar had told him as he lay down. He did his best to pull the sheets straight again, thinking about the fact they were both in exile from Los Santos now. He lay staring at the ceiling, letting his fingers drift idly across his big chest. He was too busy trying to work out what to do next, fitting all the variables in his mind.  
Cesar had shown him something that had changed his world. Right on the edge of a major push against the Ballaz, to finally put the Grove Street Families back where they belonged, Cesar had shown him Big Smoke and Ryder plotting with their sworn enemies. They were two of his closest friends who had founded Grove Street along with him and his brother Sweet. He'd run to save his brother from an attack that was never going to succeed. Both Sweet and him were meant to have died.

Tenpenny, the crooked cop who had dogged him ever since he had returned to Los Santos was the one reason he wasn't in prison with his brother. No doubt so he could keep doing the cops dirty work. With Sweet in prison, Big Smoke and Ryder no longer the close friends he thought they were, all Carl had was Cesar.

Cesar had turned off the lights before he came into the bedroom, and when he left the bathroom he did the same there. Carl could make out the Hispanics form in what little light remained. He was in just his boxers, white contrasting against the smooth brown of his skin, and the darker tones of his tattoos. Carl could see that his friend didn't have the deep definition to his muscle that he did, but what he did have was still hard, well formed. Cesar was hesitating at the side of the bed, lingering there.

"What's the matter, Ceese? I ain't gonna bite."

Carl missed the nervousness in Cesar's chuckle, "Aye, homes, it's cool. You think I ain't slept with another guy before? I had five brothers ..."

"It's a big bed. As long as you keep to your side."

"I'm used to that," Cesar remarked quietly.

Not that Carl was looking but he couldn't help notice how Cesar's boxers were bulging a bit in the front. He quickly dismissed it, noticing it only because of how he was lying on the bed. Carl turned his head and stared back up at the ceiling. He had no problem sleeping with Cesar, but he also couldn't remember the last time he was this close to a man in bed.

It took a while for Cesar to get settled on his side of the bed, as Carl lay there in silence. How long ago was it that Carl had laid right there, masturbating away furiously? He frowned as he remembered that he had even been thinking about Cesar as well. They were more thoughts that were quickly dismissed. Carl felt the hard edge of tiredness kicking in again. Surely this time he would get to sleep. Cesar's weight beside him in the bed was strange, especially knowing it was him.

"Ay, homes ..."

"Yeah."

"It's just that ... well ... gracias, ese."

"What'chu mean, homie?" Carl really wanted to sleep.

"I don't know, just thanks for being here, dude."

"Forget it," replied Carl. The comments seemed strange, and if anything he felt like it should have been him thanking Cesar. He rolled, turning his back to Cesar. Another subtle hint, then one not so subtle, "Night, Ceese."

Cesar's reply was slow to come and hesitant. Carl almost missed it, "Cool, ese ... night."

Carl didn't have as much trouble getting to sleep as he had thought. Between the softness of the bed, and the warmth, he forgot Cesar lying right next to him. He forgot how quiet it was compared to Los Santo, and that he had lost his crew and his close friends. Slept claimed him swiftly, taking him into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When Carl woke up, it was because of the weight shifting beside him. It was still dark, and pale light still filtered through the small window of the bedroom, shining off the television. Carl was awake enough to realize Cesar was getting back into bed. He rolled back onto his side, fixing his pillow and attempted to drift back to sleep. The quiet of night still surrounded the prefab, although it sounded as if the rain had finally stopped.

Carl lay half awake a while before he noticed the sounds beside him. At first they were subtle, Cesar's breathing was more heavy, but not in a way that sounded like he was going back to sleep. Then soft, quiet moans. Carl felt a hot flush of embarrassment wash over him as he realized what was going on behind him. He felt the slight, yet rhythmic movements in the bed, the more pronounced moans that Cesar was trying his hardest to contain.

'Horny motherfucker,' Carl thought. He knew from Cesar's stockpile of porn that the Hispanic probably caught those feelings as often as he did. He still felt uncomfortable enough that he stayed motionless, and tried to get back to sleep.

From even the tiniest signs behind him, Carl could paint in his mind a full image of what was going on. Part of him wanted Cesar to be done with it, while the rest of him didn't give a fuck. Embarrassment still kept his big body hot. Carl found his mind drifting back to his discovery in the back of Cesar's video cupboards. And here he was, lying right next to him, jacking his dick off. Carl frowned, reminding himself that Cesar had gone through as much as he had today. But unlike Cesar, he had been lucky enough to have a half hour or so alone to sate his lusts.

The soft chorus of moans and hot, tight breaths continued to come easily to Carl's ears. He felt the quickening in the movements, feeling a strange sensation pass through him as he anticipated his friends approaching climax. Carl wanted to take himself in hand and jack off as well. Cesar's self passion left him hungry. He felt those excited sensations within his groin, in the pit of his stomach.

The release came a little less quietly than Cesar had probably hoped. An intense moan was choked of life as quickly as it burst forth. Carl could almost feel the pleasure of Cesar's climax, which he could picture swelling out of him. He felt lewd and hot by the time he felt movement again. This time it was more pronounced, and he heard and guessed what felt like Cesar drying himself off. A moment later and the bed moved again, as Cesar got up and went back into the bathroom.

Carl's heart thumped in his chest. His family had never been as big as Cesar's, and he had never had to share a bed with anyone else. Maybe it was no big deal to the Hispanic. Carl couldn't imagine what that would be like; for jacking off next to his sleeping brothers to be considered normal. He had never lived close enough to someone to see this side of them.

By the time Cesar came back out of the bathroom and lay back in bed, Carl was already making a new effort to get back to sleep. It came slower the second time. He heard Cesar's snores a while before he finally fell asleep himself.

When Carl woke up, it was morning. The rich light of day was shining off the top of the television. Cesar wasn't next to him. He could hear the sound of music coming quietly from behind the blanket into the living room; Donna Summer, bright and up-tempo. Carl didn't pick Cesar for the sort to listen to Bounce FM.

Swinging his feet out of bed, Carl felt the hard, barely carpeted surface of the floor. He would have rather turned over and went back to sleep, but he could smell what smelt like eggs, and bacon. It drew him out of bed, despite everything else. What was usually a solid morning hard-on hung only half hard, filling out the front of his boxers rather than torpedoing up through the gap. Carl lingered long enough in bed for it to let up before leaving.

"Hey, homes, how you sleep?"

Cesar was dressed, in the same clothes he was last night, standing over a pan full of food. His warm smile and countenance appeared twice more confident than it had last night, more like his usual self. Carl gave a brief nod, rubbing at his face. Cesar poured what smelt like strong coffee and set it down on the bar.

"Check that bag I bought you last night, ese," remarked Cesar, nodding over towards where he had left it on the seats. "I laid out your clothes in the bathroom last night, but I guess they were wetter than mine. They didn't dry. I'll put them in the drier if you want ... didn't want to wake you up."

Carl sniffed at the coffee before taking a quick gulp. It hit his taste buds hard. "Damn, Ceese, you shoulda told me you was like this. I would have moved in with you when I first met you. I ain't even met a bitch that runs around after me like this."

Cesar smiled by half, and shrugged the comment off quickly, "It's cool, ese. It ain't you. Just another thing you learn quick with five brothers. Well, it was more my parents. Me es normal." He started serving up the bacon and eggs onto a plate, before pushing it across the counter to Carl.

"I could get used to this shit. I thought you said there was no food up in here?"

"I went out."

"Damn, how long you been awake?" Carl sat down at the counter, and looked over the plate of food. Better than he could have cooked himself, Carl noted.

"Not that long, ese. Figured you could use the sleep." Cesar gave him a strange look. "I didn't wake you up, did I, homes? I kept getting up in the night. Had trouble sleeping."

"Naw," he lied, dismissive. "Slept right through."

"Cool."

'Naw, I didn't wake up while you was jackin' your dick off,' Carl thought as he dug in. Had food ever tasted this good?

"I don't know if you want to just chill today, dude. Or if you want to do anything."

Carl replied between mouthfuls of food. The question was a jarring reminder of their situation, "Don't think we got anyplace else to be right now, homie." In reality, Carl knew he just needed time alone to work out what his next move should be. Or maybe he should have been thinking more about Cesar as well.

"Well if you want to make some quick cash, I know someone who holds street races out this way. The cars ain't pretty, but they fast. I can fix that up pretty easy."

Business and breakfast never mixed all that well. Carl ignored it as he piled in more food. Cesar certainly seemed his usual self now. Not at all like last night. He tried to keep his mind off his brother Sweet as well. And Smoke and Ryder. Any plan he made from here on in would involve both of them and a few bullets.

Cesar seemed to take the hint this time, "Or we can just chill, homes. Been a while since we just hung out."

"I don't think we ever hung out, Ceese. Not like this."

"So it will be cool, ese," remarked Cesar, with a smile.

Carl frowned as something occurred to him, "If you out here, then where's Kendl? If you can't go back to Los Santos, then why ain't you hiding out with her?"

"Chill, dude, Kendl's fine."

"Where's she at?"

Cesar could see his disapproval, "Ese, chill. She's staying with one my brothers out the back of Vinewood. None my crew know about the place. She's safe. I wouldn't leave her anywhere -- "

"She's staying with one your brothers?"

"He's married, homes," Cesar said, quickly on the defensive. "They both stay with my aunt. I trust them like I trust you, ese. No se preocupe de él."

Carl couldn't shake the worry, or the way it knotted up his guts. He picked at his food halfheartedly now, far from convinced. "You should be with her, homie. That shit ain't worth the risk."

"Ese. I love your sister. I wouldn't do anything that I thought would put her in danger."

Carl didn't answer, instead he just chased his food about the plate with a fork. He wanted to cuss Cesar out, but he had to tell himself that his friend was right. He had never met anyone who had treated his sister as well as Cesar did. But still, with Sweet locked up, he didn't have any other family. Overprotective was probably one of the most commonly used words people used when talking about Carl's relationship with his sister. He'd lost his appetite for breakfast quickly.

"You cool, right, homes?"

"Yeah. Sure," Carl said, as he pushed himself off from the counter. He downed some more coffee to cover his annoyance. "You got a pistol?"

"Si, 'course I have, ese."

"Get it for me."

Carl heard the sound of drawers being opened as he started in on the bag Cesar had bought in last night. He pushed through clothes of various sizes and descriptions, discovering a couple of pairs of shoes down near the bottom. Either Cesar was good at guessing, or he knew what size his feet were. Carl dismissed it, and started pulling on an oversized pair of grey sweatpants he pulled free. They fitted him well. He saw Cesar put down a black pistol on the counter next to his food, before he started hunting for a shirt.

"What you thinking about, homes?"

"Nothing," lied Carl, shrugging a hint. He pulled out a white t-shirt and pulled it on over his big upper body. It fitted as well as if he bought it himself. Carl dragged out a pair of black skate shoes that looked a lot like the sort he always saw Cesar wearing. "I'm just gonna go out for a while."

"Ok ..." Cesar didn't appear too convinced.

Carl checked his clothes over once with approval, before grabbing the pistol off the counter and checking it. Then he shoved it in the back of sweats, feeling it fit snug into the small of his back. He couldn't help but notice the look on Cesar's face. Carl didn't let himself frown at it. He just prepared to head outside, hiding things again by finishing the last of his coffee.

"Uuh ... hey, homes ..."

"What?"

"I just want to tell you something, ese."

Carl looked back at Cesar, and saw that same expression that he had seen last night. His friend was again hesitant and lacking his usual confidence. There was pain again in his eyes as he just stared back at Carl. Carl waited, patiently he thought, given how he was feeling right now about everything.

"Forget it, homes. I'll talk with you when you get back, ok?"

"Yeah."

Carl didn't waste any more time, stalking outside, and banging the door closed behind him. Cesar seemed to know him fairly well on an emotional level, and it was unnerving. He certainly knew something was up right now. Carl felt the cool country air, and heard the crunch of gravel under his shoes. He half pondered stealing a car and heading back into Vinewood and hunting out his sister. Fuck Cesar for leaving her somewhere. He should have been there with her. Why wasn't he?

It occurred to Carl by the time he reached the gate leaving the prefab complex that his surrounds were so vastly different from Los Santos. The air had an almost refreshing chill about it, and amongst the smells of pine that filled the air, he thought he could almost smell the sea. Carl wondered how close they were to the coast. All about him was a township that had grown aged, untouched by the outside world.

Across the road was a boarded up and broken down place that looked like it was once a fast food joint. Beyond it, the massive yellow chicken of Cluckin' Bell peeked above the rooftops, perhaps proof that it had fallen victim to a more powerful competitor. Cluckin' Bell shined like the only bastion of the new world, where all around it buildings and businesses decayed.

Carl walked idly down the street. He couldn't help but notice the strange looks he was getting. Not only were none of the people he saw black, but they had a certain rural look about them. Hard working, and gnarled by a lifetime of living off the land. An elderly couple sat on the veranda of an equally aged house, American flags hanging proudly near the door. Their eyes followed Carl as he passed.

"You been hoisting bails, Mister?"

Carl stopped short of barreling straight into the man, who looked back at him in a good natured way. He realized by the look in the man's eyes that he meant it as a compliment. The man looked as if he was no stranger to farm work, in a pair of well worn denim overalls. Carl regarded him a second, cautiously.

"Yeah, thanks. I have been working out a bit."

Carl watched as the man touched the brim of his cap and continued on his way. He frowned as he continued down the street himself. He'd never get used to this place. Carl wondered briefly if there was even a remote chance that he could find a sex shop around here. Did this place even have hookers? Anger towards Cesar over his sister was quickly forgotten as he started thinking again about sex.

Carl crossed the street over towards a hardware store, when something strange caught his eye, strange only because it stuck out about as much as he did. The slow moving, low slung car looked as if it had seen far better days. Carl froze in place as his eyes took it in, stared at the driver. He had thin, well kept braids, and a green flannel shirt that made him almost a beacon in the country surrounds. It spoke loudly of what he was.

Gangbanger.

'Fuck,' Carl thought. 'How the fuck they find me?'

Carl's first instinct was to fall back, quickly retreating to the alley beside the store. The car continued to move slowly up the street, as people came and went about their daily business. Carl's heart began thumping hard in his big chest, his hand wandering back towards his pistol. However they had tracked him down, Carl knew that he wasn't totally free of his past problems yet. 


	3. Rock and a Hard Place

WARNING: The following chapter of this fanfiction contains explicit, adult material. The overall story series is intended to be M/M slash of the Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas game.

ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

'Fuck this,' Carl thought.

The husky black quick glanced back out to the street. He was pretty sure he was out of sight down the alley, but wasn't taking any chances. The car was still there, attracting about as much attention as he probably was. Gangbangers had a tendency to stand out this far from the city. Carl could see that the battered, low slung car had pulled off the street, stopping near a hardware store.

Carl steeled himself, stepping out from beside the building. He began to walk purposely towards the car, his right hand moving towards his pistol. Its hefty weight pressed snug against the small of his back, where he had pushed it down the back of his sweatpants. Its cold metal felt hard against his skin, and made the adrenaline fueled sweat there feel so much more obvious.

The gangbanger in the driver's seat looked distracted, talking to another homeboy in the passenger's seat. Carl knew he had his chance to take them by surprise.

'No more running,' Carl thought, as he began to cross the street towards the car. 'No more fuckin' around. Fuckin' Grove Street live or die ...'

Each quick step took him closer towards the driver's window. Carl felt his big form tightening up as the rush pumped through him. It was a feeling that he thrived on, letting it charge him as he prepared to take care of business. Carl's eyes fixed on his target, who was still talking to his homeboy. He took a grip of the pistol at his back, closing his fingers tightly about it.

The gangbanger's braids looked very well done, falling about the length of his hard jawline. They stood out, almost as much as his green flannel shirt. It made Carl pause, pause that deadly moment as the gangbanger turned his head to see him looming over the car's window. Carl recognized that shade of green, and cursed himself for not having noticed it sooner.

"Fuckin' Carl Johnson," the gangbanger remarked in a hard tone. Carl stared down at him, his husky form shadowing the younger black.

"Who the fuck are you, homie," Carl replied, fingers locked about his pistol. He hesitated pulling it free. It was hidden under the length of his white t-shirt, but he didn't need an exposed pistol to get the attention of the people who were glancing over their way. "You best start talking quick. Put them fucking hands up on the steering wheel where I can see em."

The gangbanger's eyes hardened, something that was rivaled only by the hardness in his face. He did what he was told, slowly, "Damn, CJ. Fuckin' chill, already."

"You probably street enough to know what I got in my hand right now. You or your homeboy try any shit and some drama 'bout to go down up in here. Now talk."

The gangbanger was looking slowly about the street, obviously checking out his options. The streets were already busy, despite the early hour of the morning. Plenty of witnesses. Carl could see the gangbanger's homeboy sitting still. He didn't trust him or his friend.

"You in shotgun. Put your hands somewhere where I can trust them."

"Do what he says, Will," the gangbanger remarked. He looked angry, his dark eyes flashing. His hands were still loosely on the steering wheel. "Fuck this shit."

Carl waited until he was a little more comfortable with the situation, more confident that he was in control. Whether these niggas were decked out in Grove Street green or not, he didn't trust anything. "Time to start talking, homie. Who are you."

"Orlando. My niggas on Grove Street call me O. This here is Will."

Carl couldn't see much of Will, just that his hands were up near the glove compartment. Orlando looked like almost every hardcore gangsta on the street. His face was young, yet hardened by a lust for death, and an eagerness to impress. His dark scowl portrayed a deep set cruelty that made Carl pause now that he noticed it. Orlando looked proud, prominent features more than handsome. Despite being a little on the lightweight side, he looked powerful. Under his green flannel shirt, a white tank top stretched tight over a taut form.

"I ain't heard of either you, homie!"

"You doubtin' we Grove Street? Fuck I grew up on Grove man. I watched you playin' ball up at Big Smoke's place since I was a fuckin' kid! I seen the way you wasted that nigga fuckin' game after game!"

Carl's fingers stayed tight about his pistol, as he watched Orlando's passionate explanation. That much was true though, he had played plenty of basketball on Grove. Smoke never was good at that game. The fat fuck. Carl felt his mind hardening to someone he had once trusted like a brother.

"Grove Street is purple now, nigga. Fuckin' Ballaz runnin' the whole place. We some the few of the fam that got the fuck outta there before Smoke and Ryder finished everything."

Carl felt the pain of things again, the sickening reminder of how things had turned so quickly over the last few days. Orlando was staring back at him, his expression hateful. He recognized the pain that he saw there. For a moment, his grip relaxed. Carl forced himself not to trust so easily. Not after what had happened. His whole body was still tight with adrenaline, ready to explode into action at the slightly movement.

"That still don't explain how you tracked me down, homie. Start telling me shit I don't know before I put a fuckin' pistol up in your face and see how well you talk then!"

"I know Ceese," Orlando explained. The youth was hard in the face of threats, resentful. "I know his family. I visited his fam out in Vinewood. Your sister told me Ceese was heading out this way to pick you up. We been tryin' to find you two since last night."

"Kendl? You talked with Kendl?"

"Yeah, nigga. What I just tell you?"

Carl's breaths ran ragged in his lungs as he tightened his grip again. His fingers were starting to ache with the tension. His head spun with the thought that someone had got that close to Kendl when Cesar had told him she was hidden. Fuck this. Fuck Cesar. Why the fuck wasn't he back there with her, watching her back?

"Look, nigga. We ain't got no place else to go. We rather be up here with you than runnin' fuckin' scared. I don't do that shit. We figured we find you, that you would know what to do about the Ballaz."

"Grove Street is down, homie."

"Yeah, but that ain't mean I ain't still fuckin' down wit' Grove Street. Fuckin' live or die, nigga. This shit ain't gonna turn me into a bitch. I ain't ditchin' my fuckin' colors."

Carl felt an admiration, seeing Orlando, seeing the passion in the youth's eyes. He knew gangbangers like him. They burnt bright and burnt fast. Orlando was the sort who would go down in a hail of bullets when his time came. But in his mind there was nothing worth dying for more than his gang.

"We all that's fuckin' left, CJ. But Grove Street ain't down. Fuck that shit. As long as we alive, Grove Street ain't down. WE fuckin' Grove Street."

"Yeah, homie. You got that right," Carl replied, subdued.

"So get the hell up in here, nigga. These fuckin' hicks got me on edge. I'm sick of bein' stared at."

Carl waited a breath or two longer before finally letting go of his pistol. Orlando's words touched him in a place where pride burnt brighter than life. He was right, despite, everything that happened Grove Street wasn't dead. Not while they were still alive. Three homeboys. At least it was a start. Carl pulled his hand out from under his t-shirt and pulled open one of the back doors. He thought that he almost spied a look of relief on Orlando's usually hard expression.

Sliding into the back seat, Carl finally got a look at Will. The kid looked younger than even Orlando, who himself looked to have just made it into his twenties. He wore an oversized hoodie in a Grove Street shade of green. His hair was done in cornrows, but just barely. They looked long since needing redoing. Carl thought he looked like the sort of kid who wouldn't survive long on the streets. His face was boyish, maybe a shade lighter than his homeboys. They looked like an odd pair, total opposites.

Orlando started the car again, the stereo bursting to life. The skillful guitar playing of Lenny Kravitz filled the car as Orlando pulled back out onto the street. Are you gonna go my way? Carl didn't think he had much of a choice but to trust. The paranoia that had haunted him over Cesar made him feel the same way about Orlando and Will.

"So where we headed?" Orlando asked. His was driving at that same slow, lazy pace that would hold up traffic anywhere else. "Was fuckin' hard enough trackin' you down, nigga. Probably woulda just gone up the coast to San Ferrio if we hadn't found you today."

"Just turn right up here. Me and Ceese holed up in some place of his that he bought a while back."

Carl felt his foot hit against something on the floor, looking down. It was a well worn backpack, and something clinked inside as he pushed it a bit further away from him. He got a look from Will, who glanced down behind the seat towards the pack. Carl ignored it, sitting back, dead center. This way he could get a good view of everything. He gave Will a stare that made the kid face the front again.

"You didn't tell me," Carl said. "How you know Ceese."

"Me and Ceese go way back, nigga. I know his fam. I used to do Sunday dinners up in his families place. Ain't never seen a guy with some much fuckin' family."

Carl used the moment to pry a bit more. He reminded himself that he had Kendl's best interests at heart anyway, "So this place you said my sisters up at. Where is it?"

"Niggas place in Vinewood? It's the wrong side of the hills. Lil shack. One his brothers owns it or some shit."

"Kendl was all good, right?"

"Yeah, nigga. She doin' ok from what I can see."

Carl didn't worry so much about the two any more. He figured that he could get them back to Cesar, and if he didn't vouch for Orlando's story, then he could take care of both of them. He tapped Orlando on the shoulder and pointed over towards the prefab complex that was coming up on their right.

"I know how you are with yo sister, CJ. Think about everyone on Grove Street knew not to even look at her wrong while you was out."

"Better believe it," Carl muttered.

"So chill the fuck already, nigga. I ain't have to tell you Ceese is a good man. He believes in that honor shit. You're sisters' aiight. Cesar ain't gonna turn like some niggas we know ..."

Carl took a heavy breath, neither of them had to speak names, "Best believe that too ..."

The car bounced a little as they pulled into the rough soiled area of the prefabs. Carl prepared himself again, mentally. Time to see how shit checked out. He found that it was easy to slip back into old patterns of taking care of business. It kept his mind off shit, and kept his mind off the fact it had been weeks since he had last got laid.

"Park us over there, homie."

"Aiight."

Carl got out of the car as soon as it stopped, his big body tightening as he let his right hand linger back again. Part of him argued with his sense of mistrust. But Carl couldn't help it when two of his closest had turned against him so easily. What did it take to sell out your whole damn crew like that? After how many years? Carl put his hand closer to his pistol.

'Grove Street is Grove Street man, what the fuck are you thinking? These boys are legit. You got the last of Grove Street up in here.'

The two of them got out of the car. Carl just wanted to wait and see Cesar's reaction. That done, he would trust and try and chill on all the paranoia he had been feeling the last few days. Then maybe they could build something to put things back where they belonged. He knew he was going to need people for that. Loyal people.

"Yo Ceese! Come out here a minute!" Carl called. He motioned over at Orlando. "You two hold up a minute, aiight?"

"What? What's up?"

"Let me get my homie to vouch for you."

"Fuck this, CJ."

"Nah, chill your fuckin' self. We Grove Street? You do shit my way."

Carl closed his hand about the pistol and this time pulled it out, letting it hang lightly at his side. He liked the way that shut Orlando up, and made the homeboy fear just a little. Will had pulled his hood up over his head, hanging back near the car like he didn't want to be here.

The door of the prefab opened, and Cesar stepped cautiously onto the veranda. His expression was guarded as he stared at Orlando, but it wasn't an initial reaction. Carl guessed he had already checked them out through the window before coming out. The tall Hispanic stayed back, silent and staring at Orlando with that look of surprise. Carl didn't like it at all. Certainly not the way you would treat an old homeboy.

"Sup, Ceese? Remember me?"

Carl kept his grip firm on the pistol, but still let it hang relaxed at his side. "You know this nigga, homie?"

"Si, I know him, homes. What's up? Where you find him?"

"Find him snooping around Hicksville with his homeboy here. He says he from Grove Street and he know you and your family."

"Yeah, dude, he does," Cesar replied, still standing near the door. "We used to chill."

"What about now? You still chill these days?" asked Carl. "You vouching for him, homie?"

"Si, usted puede confiarlo en. He's cool."

Orlando finally gave a smile, glancing over at Carl with a rather vindicated look. He swaggered over towards Cesar, and gave him a staunch street hug, one armed and straight forward. He muttered quietly in on the Hispanic. Carl frowned, noticing the way Cesar seemed so hesitant. He barely responded to Orlando's greeting. It was like he didn't even want to touch him. Orlando pulled back, staring Cesar over.

"I guess you two got plenty shit you want to catch up on, but right now, we got to figure out what to do from here." Carl shoved the pistol back in his pants. "Sorry if I acted like I ain't trust you O."

Carl motioned the smaller gangbanger over, and then gave him a hug, one like Orlando had tried to give Cesar. He felt the hardness of Orlando's body against his for the moment, he gave off a heat. Orlando kept close, muttering to Carl.

"It's all good, nigga. Ain't like shit like this happens every day. I ain't blame you for bein' so fuckin' tight 'bout all this."

Carl pulled back, giving Orlando a hard look. Damn, the nigga had a mouth on him. He could see him getting beat on for shooting off so much back on Grove Street. Orlando barely gave it any mind, seeming to let that be the last of the matter.

"Figured you two was gonna go back to your brothers, nigga," Orlando remarked to Cesar, heading up into the prefab. "What with Kendl being back there an' all."

Cesar still seemed a little shell shocked for some reason, "Yeah, that was the plan, ese."

"It was?" Carl asked. He pushed Will in passed him, the younger homeboy still lingering back. Carl was starting to recognize that hesitant, standoffish nature that he had seen in Cesar last night. The Hispanic shrugged.

"Figure it as good as any, dude, plus I know how you worrying about your sister."

Carl headed inside and took a seat on one of the many that lined the wall of the lounge area. There might have been plenty of places for all of them to sit, but there was no way the four of them were going to be able to crash here for much longer than a night. Orlando took up a place opposite him, his manner relaxed since he had seen Cesar. He slouched, low and wide legged.

"All I wanna know right now is what happened back on Grove Street," Carl said. "I wanna know where shits standing. Ceese tipped me off about my brother Sweet getting ambushed by Ballaz."

"You know Ryder and Smokes behind all that shit," Orlando remarked, with that passionate, hateful fire in his eyes again. "Because they rolled on up to Grove Street wit' a grip of Ballaz, ready to start bustin'. They fuckin' struck his colors. Way they was talkin' you an' Sweet was already dead. But Will here heard shit a little different. He heard you got out and Sweet got arrested."

"Yeah, that's sorta true, homie."

Carl couldn't help but sense the feeling between them. It was like all the times he had huckered down and planned his next move. Except then it had been with his brother, and Ryder and Smoke. He still couldn't get over what had gone down. But bit by bit, all the pieces were coming together, and there was little other course but to accept it and move on as best he could. He had to try and pick up the pieces of this mess.

"This some ol' heavy planned shit, nigga," Orlando continued. He was back up on his feet. "Ballaz's moved in on all Grove Street turf in one big hit. But wit' Ryder and Smoke on their side, ain't no way they could fail. They knew all our secrets. When the time comes, and they layin' face down, best believe I'm gonna piss on their backs ..."

"I appreciate your loyalty, man," Carl said. "We gonna need soldiers like you if we going to do anything about this." He glanced up at Cesar who had been stolidly silent throughout, "You down, ain't you homie? You gonna ride with us?"

Carl noticed everyone's eyes were on Cesar, and yet he was still as hesitant and unfocussed as he always was of late. Carl wondered if perhaps losing his crew had fucked him up more than it had fucked up him. He had two niggas on his side now. Cesar had no one other than him. Cesar hadn't acted as messed us he had over the last few days.

The Hispanic stayed leaning up against the counter, "'Course, homes. You know I'm always down to help you out." Carl noticed how he was still sharing glances with Orlando. The braided gangbanger hardly appeared worried about it.

"Whatever we do, we gonna need a larger place than this," Carl asked. "Ceese, you got a place closer to Los Santos? Like near where Kendl's at?"

Cesar shook his head, distracted. Carl pulled himself up to his feet and walked over to him. "Ceese, snap out of this shit, homie. We need to keep our minds on this and sort it out."

"Ay, I'm sorry, homes." Cesar avoided his eye, sighing quietly. "I just need a bit of air."

"Huh ...?"

"If we goin' anywhere I'm gonna need more fuel in my tank, nigga," Orlando remarked. "Why don't you and Will go take care that shit. We can sort out what to do when you get back."

"Whatever."

Carl was more preoccupied with Cesar and his continue strange moods. It was beginning to fuck him off. The Hispanic had more mood swings than a damn bitch. He caught his hard thoughts, rubbing his hand back over his short shaved head. He wanted to give Cesar a break, but it was hard when he was acting like this. He watched as he headed out of the prefab.

"Forget that nigga," Orlando said. "Take care of my car, CJ. We don't need to rush this shit. Ain't like Ryder and Smoke goin' anywhere. Fuckers are sittin' pretty up in Grove now. They ain't moving."

"Yeah ..."

Carl barely heard Orlando, heading out after Cesar. What the fuck had come over him? He quickly spied the Hispanic leaning up against the prefab, further along the battered wooden exterior. He headed over towards him, a look of concern etched into his dark features.

"What the fucks going on, Ceese? You bugging out."

"Ay, I'm cool, homes."

"I ain't never seen you act like you been the last few days, man." Carl kept in close to the Hispanic, preferring to keep his voice down. He glanced back towards the door, but it looked as if their two new allies were staying inside. "This got something to do with that nigga Orlando?"

"Si, homes, but not how you think."

"I thought you said you two were cool?"

"We are. I just haven't seen him in a while, Carl. It's a bit of a surprise."

Carl frowned, still keeping close to the Hispanic, "You two have a falling out or something?"

"Nothing like that, homes," Cesar said. He finally turned to face Carl, looking him in the eyes for the first time in a while. "We two used to be close. Ciérrese como hermanos, like you and me are now. But then I met your sister ..."

"Yeah, girls change things like that sometimes," Carl replied. Things were starting to make a little more sense. He kicked at the hard, dirt ground. "He don't look like the sort that be too cool with a change like that."

Cesar looked at him strange a moment, but then shrugged. "Nah, dude, he wasn't. But I swear, things are cool ok?" He put a hand on Carl's shoulder, just staring at his eyes for a few very long moments. Carl started to feel uncomfortable in the silence, but Cesar broke it with an almost soft remark, "We hermanos, right?"

"Of course, Ceese. Why you think that shits going to change?"

"I don't, but shit gets twisted up sometimes," Cesar replied. There was a resignation about his expression. "I'm just glad we homeboys, ese. I'm happy with that."

"Yeah, I'm glad we homeboys too."

Cesar looked past him, and Carl glanced back over his shoulder to see Will standing near the door. The young black held up a set of keys before tossing them over in Carl's direction. He grabbed them effortlessly, and grunted, looking obviously put out by the suggestion.

"I better take care of this. I guess we ain't gonna get that chance to chill by ourselves for a few days yet, Ceese."

Carl was surprised that the Hispanic chuckled, smiling back at him. His mood seemed better, some of the weight that was resting on his soul lifted. "Ay, its cool, homes. We get our chance."

"C'mon then, homeboy," Carl remarked, trudging over towards the car, and motioning to Will. "Lets go take care of this shit. You can tell me a lil about yourself on the way."

Carl got into the car, waited for Will before starting it first try, and reversing out slowly. He noticed Orlando standing near the door, watching, before he turned the car about and headed back out onto the street. It would feel good to get back into things, Carl considered. It was hard sitting still, even if it had only been a day. The thought of doing nothing, laying low for so long intimidated Carl.

He looked over at Will, sitting slouched in the passengers seat. The young homeboy's hood was still pulled down over his head, shadowing his face. He seemed almost totally oblivious to what was going on around him, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Carl turned the stereo off, hoping it might encourage the youth into talking. He wasn't surprised when it didn't.

"So how long you known O?" Carl asked casually, trying to remember if he had spotted a petrol station anywhere in his time out of the prefab. Will shrugged, answering with little more than a grunt. "You been down with Grove Street long? I ain't seen you around."

"You been out of town the last few years."

Carl frowned, feeling the obviousness of the remark drive home the point. Grove Street had been great once, and up until the last few days, it had been great again. But it was becoming more and more obvious that it had been Carl and his brothers hand that had insured that. He really had been gone a long time if Grove Street could come to this, friends betraying friends, family not even recognizing family.

"Well I'm not leaving Grove Street again," Carl remarked, quietly. "Things gonna be different this time around, homie."

The comment elicited little from Will. Carl glanced over, seeing the homeboy staring out at the buildings they passed. Distant and silent. Carl grunted, annoyed. He decided not to push the youth, happy that he spotted a station not too much further up the main stretch. The suspension groaned as Carl pulled up into the bay. Cesar could probably work wonders with this car, he thought.

Carl got out of the car, and proceeded to fill it up, his mind already going through the options. With two cars, they could head back towards Vinewood and hole up there. Maybe there was a back way that Cesar knew about. Maybe they could rent a couple of motel rooms, find out whether there were any other survivors of Grove Street. Carl ignored that stares that he got from the old man attending the office. For some reason he started wondering about Tenpenny, and his brother.

Carl wasted little time paying for the petrol and heading back to the prefab. He ignored Will for his thoughts as he finalized the plan. Carl felt the charge of action again, revitalized by the thought and reality of a new direction. Things were going to be looking up from here. With Cesar at his back, along with the other two from Grove Street, he had a solid way ahead. Carl found himself admitting begrudgingly to himself, Orlando was right. As long as they were alive, Grove Street was alive.

Carl pulled the car around and parked near the entranceway, in preparation for a quick leaving. He figured an hours tops was all they needed to stay here. Getting out of the car, he noticed Will fall in stride with him, and felt somewhat hard about his feelings towards the youth. It seemed strange that the future of Grove Street was partly in the hands of two gangstas so vastly different, Orlando and Will.

The prefab felt empty as Carl headed back up inside, a cursory glance not revealing either Orlando or Cesar. Carl heard the sound of voices from the bedroom, recognizing O's harder tone. He headed towards them, eager to get them underway and out of this tiny hideout. It was time to get towards bigger and better things.

"I'm just sayin', nigga, for old times sake. Stop bein' a fuckin' bitch 'bout it."

Cesar's voice carried more lightly on the air, making Carl stop in his tracks, "Homes, I'm not joking. I don't suck cock any more. I told you, ese, I'm going to marry Kendl. That part of my life is over. No hago eso más."

What the fuck! Carl paused near the blanket that kept the bedroom separate from the living area. He didn't believe he could have heard that right.

"That ain't what yo dick sayin' right now, Ceese. I see how yo still lookin' at me. So why you ain't get down on yo knees fo' me, give a nigga a lil love."

"I'm serious, homes. I can't do it." Cesar's voice sounded harder. "Homes ... don't do that."

Carl felt his big chest tighten, his mind rioting at the reality of what he was hearing. Disbelief swamped him, and he started the few brief steps towards the door. He had to put shit straight, he had to see this for himself. There was no way that Cesar had just said what he had.

'My fuckin' homeboy doesn't suck cock!'

Carl felt something on his arm, glancing back annoyed in his growing anxiousness to see what was going on. He saw Will, holding onto his arm, the youth's face deadly serious, yet still shadowed by his hood. Will shook is head slowly, as if warning off against what Carl meant to do. The big black tugged his arm away fiercely and turned to shove back the blanket.

"Just go down, nigga."

Carl saw the shock in Cesar's eyes, the look of horror on his light features. It struck Carl almost as immediately as how close Orlando was to the Hispanic. That and the fact that the black's sagging cargos were down around his ankles, exposing those long, sinuous legs and dark boxers. He had Cesar backed up hard against the only wall space in the bedroom, trapped with an arm hard up against a wall. Carl though how it looked almost like Orlando was in front of a urinal, ready to take a piss.

There was no way what Carl heard could have been wrong. Carl could see it all too easily. Cesar was all but ready to drop to his knees and suck Orlando's dick. The thought of it made Carl's mind reel in disgust and disbelief, hearing those words off Cesar's tongue. His own fucking homeboy!

Everything began to hit home, with the force of a baseball bat to the head. Being in bed with Cesar. Discovering that porn tape. The way Cesar had lingered those few times. Carl shook his head, anger mixing with disgust on his dark features. He saw the effect it had on Cesar, the way the Hispanic's eyes reached out, how they panicked within. He saw Orlando's cocky smirk as the gangbanger glanced back towards him. Carl let his expression harden, before turning away from the bedroom.

"Homes! CJ!"

Carl ignored Cesar, hearing the Hispanic raise his voice in Spanish in the bedroom, then something that sounded like a thump. Carl just knew he couldn't be here as he pushed past Will and headed outside, he couldn't be near Cesar or Orlando. This changed everything, and there was no way in fuck Carl could let himself stay. 


End file.
